


when I count my blessings and you’re mine for always

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Female Theon, Genderbending, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Weddings, not so accidental spoiling MAYBE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 02:04:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: It wasn’t supposed to go like this.It’s not like it’s news – nothing in Theon’s life has ever gone the way things are usually supposed to, starting from the moment her father, who had been hoping for a third son, had decided to give her a boy’s name anyway.Or: in which Theon was born female, which changes some things. However, Robb's ideas when it comes to saving a spoiled maiden's honor do not change whatsoever.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, years ago I wrote this thing which was basically ‘genderbend where Theon was born female and it means she and Robb can get married before Shit Goes Down’ which I then promptly forgot because I wanted to sit on the characterization. Then I found it again last month or so and after polishing it some I posted it on tumblr a while ago to have it out in the open. Since this is REPOSTING STUFF MORNING here we go let's have it on ao3 as well. Really this is completely mindless fluff and I wanted an excuse to just marry them off properly, damn you westeros for not accepting anything less than m/f weddings xD
> 
> Other than that: nothing in here belongs to me and the title is from Bruce Springsteen and I'll now saunter vaguely back downwards as usual /o\

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

It’s not like it’s news – nothing in Theon’s life has ever gone the way things are usually supposed to, starting from the moment her father, who had been hoping for a third son, had decided to give her a boy’s name anyway. Which had meant endless taunting from her brothers, amusement from her sister and a whole lot of misery from everyone else, no matter that her _father_ picked the name. Add that her mother always seemed to favor her because she was the youngest, and you have a recipe for disaster.

Then her father started a rebellion (and Theon doesn’t forget that in order to get some minor’s lord alliance Balon Greyjoy had promised him her hand, but that stopped being her problem the moment the war was lost), and then her brothers had died and Ned Stark wasn’t going to leave without a hostage.

Not many people know that the only reason Theon actually volunteered before anyone could make that choice is that she knew, deep down, that her father wouldn’t have picked Asha, who as things are had the best claim. It was – well. It’s not like Theon had _wanted_ it, fuck _no_ , but as it was, if she chose it, at least she’d be spared herself the sight of her father not choosing her without even thinking about it, and maybe it would have been seen as some kind of brave choice and they wouldn’t have forgotten about her after a week.

She might have been nine, but she wasn’t stupid. She was the youngest, and she wasn’t a man, and it was no mystery about who had their father’s favor, between her and Asha. So she went with Ned Stark. If it had gone the way it was supposed to, at least her father would have looked at her as if he was at least a bit proud, but Theon doesn’t think he was. He didn’t even look particularly sad either.

Then, if things had gone the way they were supposed to, the moment she arrived at Winterfell – well. No, the coldness from both Ned Stark and his lady wife was more or less expected. Anyway, if they had gone according to plans, she’d have ended up spending most of her time with a septa, in company of Lord Stark’s eldest daughter (who, other than being a lot younger than her, never warmed up to her anyway, and Theon thinks that her name being what it is didn’t help much). She hadn’t expected that they’d let her wear the breeches and tunic that were the only kind of garment in her meager pack of belongings, or that they’d let her take sword lessons if she asked – it’s not as if she had had many, but she had done it sometimes with Asha and she certainly liked it better than playing music. Or singing.

(Sewing was all right and she hadn’t minded it, but she hadn’t ever tried to put too much enthusiasm in it, given how her father seemed to favor Asha when it came to the way a daughter of his should behave, and Asha didn’t have much time for sewing in the first place.)

Anyway, it hadn’t gone like that. What happened was Robb Stark. Who, when they first met, had just turned eight and who, when they were introduced, couldn’t stop saying that he found it so incredibly strange-but-in-the-good-way that she didn’t have a boy’s name. And who apparently was sincerely interested in – well, at least talking to her without it being out of courtesy. It’s not like she had that many friends on Pyke, or as if her own brothers and sister paid her that much attention, and so she hadn’t really thought it out when she told him that she’d have rather spent her time shooting arrows with them in the training yard than sitting through singing lessons with Sansa. And then Robb had looked at her, said that it would be a nice thing if he and his brother could have someone else to train with, and two days later she was taking archery lessons in the yard with both Robb and his bastard brother (who, according to Theon, brooded too much for being seven, but then again she was lucky enough to be allowed in the yard and to be spared half of the _proper lady_ training – complaining about having to do it with someone named Snow wasn’t on her agenda).

Then it happened that when the novelty of having someone new around wasn’t there anymore, Robb didn’t get tired of her presence or anything equally stupid, which Theon wouldn’t have bet on. But – well. As far as she can remember, there wasn’t a moment since they met when Robb treated her differently from what he’d have treated his brothers or sisters, and fine, he’s been the only one, but it still was more than she had at home. Which is why, the moment she got her moon blood three years later, she hadn’t gone to find a septa or Lady Stark, but Robb, who had been graceful enough not to ask her why she’d tell _him_.

Now, if things had gone the way they usually do, Ned Stark would have written to her father and they probably would have start arranging marriages by raven or something like that.

That first part happened, except that _Asha_ was the one answering and saying that she had read the letter before her father did, and that it wasn’t the right moment to break the news, and that anyway _she_ would have been more suited to deal with the entire problem if there was the need. Theon hadn’t thought that Ned Stark would have accepted that decision, except that he did and no marriage was arranged for the moment.

Now, from _then_ to this particular moment, Theon hasn’t exactly been a septa. She isn’t an idiot, and she’s been careful to keep her maidenhead as whole as it was supposed to be, but it’s not as if you need to go there to have some fun if you wish to. Which is why, when she fell into a bed with Robb Stark, she definitely knew what she was doing more than he ever could.

(Theon isn’t ever going to tell him about that time when she and Snow had gone in a corner inside the stables during a feast where Snow wasn’t welcome due to his surname and where she wasn’t welcomed at the main table. She had given Snow a handjob that had made his knees weak. And she can testify that Snow’s mouth is _good_ when put in the right place. But other than him, she’s been with enough men until now, and a few women because why shouldn’t she have tried, having the chance. Robb has kissed Jeyne Poole once, and then has probably just enjoyed the company of his right hand at most. So yes, Theon would have known a lot more about fucking than Robb ever could.)

There’s also another variable, in this entire _things don’t go the way they should in her life_ : she had never planned to actually _like_ Robb Stark, she hadn’t ever planned to like him enough to have daydreams about giving _him_ that fucking, despicable maidenhead and she had never planned to act on it. It’s – well. She _knew_ that she wasn’t supposed to like any of these people, and she knew that Ned Stark would have killed her if her father stepped out of line, and it’s not like anyone else except Robb cared much about her one way or the other, but – but she couldn’t help liking what she’s been seeing for years. Ned Stark and his wife certainly don’t play the good parents to her, but they’re better to their children than her own father ever was to her, and between all six of said children there’s mostly affection. Certainly not the mutual disinterest between her and Asha and the mutual disliking between her and her now deceased brothers, of whom she can’t recall one decent memory if she spends one hour trying to find one.  It’s not her place, but she’s thought sometimes that she’d like for it to be. And she had realized that she wasn’t much better than Sansa (who spends her time talking about the day some handsome knight will marry her, and it makes Theon want to puke because seriously, who needs handsome knights when you can put an arrow in someone’s neck if you need to defend yourself?) when she thought that maybe Robb _would_ like her enough to put a cloak on her shoulders.

And that was a ridiculous notion, because Robb is Ned Stark’s firstborn and from a purely logical point of view, it would be a waste to marry him to the youngest daughter of a defeated king who’s spent half of her life as a hostage, who’s absolutely not what passes for a proper lady (fine, maybe the part where she could most probably sew herself a great wedding coat might count, but along with enjoying wearing beautiful gowns when she has the chance to, it’s about the one thing that makes her a semblance of a proper lady) and who doesn’t go out of her way to hide that while she’s technically a maiden, she’s most definitely no pure virginal flower.

As if. If things had gone the way they were supposed to, she’d still be technically a maiden.

Except that they _didn’t_ , because she had never entertained the notion that Robb might actually like her back.

It had started the moment they got a raven from Asha saying that some minor Ironborn lord (who at least is, according to Asha, young, handsome and definitely nicer than whoever Theon’s father had picked the first time) seems to be interested in her hand if and when she comes back, and apparently their father’s health isn’t at its best and it’s not like he’s ever going to start another war.

So it had continued with Ned Stark telling Theon to consider her choices, which really meant _you can’t do better than this_ , not to mention that there aren’t many ladies around Westeros that aren’t married at eighteen, and she had ended up in Robb’s room saying that it was ridiculous and she felt as if she was some sack of potatoes that you can ship wherever you want when it’s needed. Robb had told her not to be ridiculous, she was worth more than that anyway, and she had snorted and told him that he was the only person in Winterfell of that opinion, and then Robb had kissed her and then moved back as if it burned, his cheeks as red as his hair, or almost, and Theon had almost thought she had been dreaming the entire thing.

Then Robb had started blathering about being sorry and it wasn’t really honorable of him but she should have the right to choose whoever she wanted to be with and something else very embarrassing and then it had ended with Theon on top of him, her mouth slammed against his, and she _had_ told him that they shouldn’t go forward and that it was a very bad idea.

Except that Robb Stark, other than having a face that is too honorable for his own fucking good, doesn’t know a bad idea when it hits him in the face, and the moment he had brought her head down and kissed her slowly, with a lot more skill than someone without much experience had the right, and as if he really, really meant it, she hadn’t been able to stop. The last coherent thing she had thought before stopping altogether had been that there was no one else she’d have wanted to go the whole way with, and then she had put her hard-earned skills to good use. And she had found out that Robb was quick on the uptake, which hadn’t been a bad thing at all.

Back to the current moment: sadly it’s morning, and they’re both awake, and there’s blood on the sheets, and Robb is looking at her as if he’s mortified.

Now, she thinks, things _will_ go the way they’re supposed to. She takes a breath and figures that she should just say it first.

“I’ll go find some moon tea,” she says, and she hates that her voice comes out strangled instead of calm.

“Wait – wait a second there.” Robb grabs her wrist and pulls her back into the bed, looking at her with those damned stupid honorable blue eyes of his. He looks down at the stain on the sheet, than back at her.

“If I tell you that I thought – that I thought you already – I mean, I didn’t –”

“Stark, it’s what everyone assumes. Don’t worry, I’m not going to be offended. And well, technically it’s true. I just was careful about _that_ , but it’s not like it matters. It’s just some fucking blood. I won’t miss it.”

“But – hells, I’m sorry. Now I –”

“Don’t start on the whole spoiling a noble maiden tirade, all right? On the Iron Islands they’re less strict about that sort of thing. I’ll just accept that offer and tell him I broke it while riding a horse.”

“But – _fuck_ , wait a second! No one said you have to do it.”

Theon snorts. “And what do you propose for an alternative? Everyone’s going to find out. But it’s fine. I mean, it’s – it’s better that it was you.”

“And why?” Robb’s voice sounds strangely hopeful now. What?

“Stark, shut it. I wouldn’t have let you gone the whole way if I hadn’t wanted it. I wasn’t paying you a favor.”

“I have an alternative,” Robb says then, and he sounds a lot more sure.

“What?”

“Well. I _spoiled_ you, technically.”

“So?”

Robb rolls his eyes. “Come on, don’t be an idiot. What do you think should happen now, if things went as they should?”

Saying that hearing it sounds like having an ice bucket thrown over her head is… well. Accurate.

“Wait. Wait. You’re saying that you want to _marry_ me? No. No, don’t even go there. I’m not – you can do a whole fucking lot better.”

“What if I don’t want to do _a whole fucking lot better_?”

“You – you _what_?”

Robb sighs and moves closer, and he’s looking at her in some kind of _fond_ way that Theon doesn’t know what to do with it.

“I suppose you should know that I’ve been asking my father why would that be such a bad thing if I married you for… well, since I was fourteen. Probably.”

“You _didn’t._ ”

“I did. And he kept on saying it was a bad idea and brought up a lot of diplomatic issues that I can’t even remember, but that’s not the point. On one side I was sure that if he broke that kind of news to you, you’d have hated me. Because – well. I’d have decided for you. But – believe me, if I had to marry you out of honor, I wouldn’t be the one to complain.”

Theon isn’t sure that she’s understanding right any of this.

And then Robb brings a hand up to her face and touches a loose strand of dark hair, and gods but the way he’s looking at her, it’s something that would make Sansa’s songs look unrealistic.

“You can’t mean it,” she says, but she doesn’t sound as convinced as she should.

“Why not? Is that so hard a notion to grasp? Actually, don’t answer that. Just answer another question. Do you _not_ want for this marriage to happen? If you don’t, then – I guess you can walk out of here, get your moon tea and we’ll never talk about it again. But if you do – then just say it.”

The way things go, Theon Greyjoy being married to Robb Stark would be the most ridiculous notion in the seven kingdoms.

Apparently, she’s too weak to do what she knows would be the proper thing.

“Stark, you bloody – do you think there is someone else I’d _want_ to marry?”

Before he can answer, there’s a knock on the door. Theon barely manages to grab a sheet and cover herself before Arya and Jon, out of everyone, find them in the most fucking compromising position ever, and there’s no way to hide the blood on the sheets.

Jon is quick to put a hand in front of Arya’s eyes, but by now the damage is done.

“Robb, just one question.” He sounds as broody as he usually does, but it’s obvious that he’s trying not to laugh. “What do you plan to do about this?”

“We’re getting married,” Robb replies without missing a beat.

That’s when the madness begins.

But Theon doesn’t know it yet.

–-

Thankfully Robb speaks alone to their parents, and apparently he’s managed to convince them that _no_ , Theon hadn’t done that on purpose, it was the both of them. Good.

Then the real madness starts.

First Sansa starts cooing over her in a way she never did when they were younger, and apparently _she_ is helping her sew her cloak because she absolutely wants to? And that’s not even the weirdest thing that happens.

The weirdest thing that happens is Asha storming into Winterfell some time after she sends a raven saying that if it’s how it is, then fine, marriage it shall be, some two weeks before the wedding.

No, actually, that’s the third-weirdest thing.

The second-weirdest is Asha bringing her some place without anyone else around and asking her if it’s what she really wants.

“What – why?”

“Oh, come on. Who knows if they’re forcing you or something like that.”

“Fuck, no. Believe me, they aren’t.”

“But – why _him_? You could have had any lord back home if you wanted. Well, looking at you, if you ever came back they’d probably stop bothering me for my hand and start asking for yours, which would be a bloody relief.”

Theon sighs and shakes her head. In ten years, Asha has gone from not-exactly-remarkable to _beautiful_ , no doubt about it, but she does have a certain roughness about her that might be off-putting for anyone who wasn’t born on the Iron Islands. Or who doesn’t appreciate rough hands with palms full of scars and blisters.

“Asha, I know it’s not what you want or what our father would have wanted, but – oh, fuck, just let it go. I want this. If it had to be someone, then I’d have wanted him anyway. It’s – complicated, all right? Just take it for what it is. But believe me, no one is forcing me to do anything.”

Asha takes a good look at her and gives her a curt nod and thankfully doesn’t ever bring up the issue.

The weirdest thing is when she decides she has to supervise things along with whoever else named themselves to the task because she isn’t _letting stuff in the hands of northmen_ , and it ends up with her, Sansa and Lady Stark arguing about what dress should she wear.

Theon thinks that it’s some kind of nightmare. Asha is saying that it doesn’t have to be frilly or full of lace or in any way _overdone_ , Ironborn women don’t know what to do with frills, and it should be grey. Sansa is horrified at the prospect because grey is a color for a _septa_ , not a bride, and she says it should be golden or at least yellow and it should be embroidered like this and like that and of _course_ there should be lace. Lady Stark keeps on saying that something in the middle would be preferable and that it should be white, and Theon wants to laugh in her face because seriously, _white?_

She’s almost tempted to say that she’s going to wear fucking breeches even if she had admittedly enjoyed the idea of wearing a _nice_ gown for the day, when Snow rescues her telling her that it’s sword training time.

–-

Then, that evening, Robb tells her to come to his room. Sansa, Lady Stark and Asha are _still_ arguing about the gown.

“I can’t do this,” Theon says when they’re out of hearing reach. “Fuck, at least you’d think they’d ask for my opinion, wouldn’t they?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be _you_ ,” Robb chuckles before opening the door and letting her in.

“So,” he says as he opens a chest in the corner, “I had sort of thought the dress diatribe could happen. At least between Sansa and my mother – I hadn’t taken your sister into account, but that’s not the problem. And from what I see, none of them is getting it half-right. So I just – took a look around and found a thing.”

“You – you ordered me a gown?”

“No. I found one around the place I thought you might like, if you do you can just change it around or sew a new one similar and solve the problem already.”

He drapes a dress over the bed and Theon moves closer so that she can look at it.

And – it’s gorgeous. No other way to put it. The cloth is a dark green wool, and wherever there’s some embroidering, it’s done in silver, but for the rest it’s thankfully lace-free. And the colors wouldn’t clash with either a Stark or Greyjoy cloak. She can see at once that it won’t fit her, it was made for someone shorter and thinner and with smaller breasts, but she’s entirely fine with reworking it.

“That’s – you can go tell our sisters and your mother to stop arguing. I’m fine with this one. If they find me some good wool I can just sew it all over again, and if your sister wants to help we’d probably finish sooner.”

“Oh. Good. I have to thank Arya for that.”

“ _Arya_?”

“She said that it was ridiculous that they’d argue over colors when it’s obvious that _this_ would look good on you. Don’t even try to ask me how she knew or why she was looking around with me, I'm not sure I remember how it went down.”

Scratch it, _that’_ s the fucking weirdest thing that’s happened since she accepted Robb’s proposal.

–-

Somehow, they manage to arrive at the wedding day without any of their respective relatives killing each other.

Now, maidens walking towards the altar are usually walked by their father.

But as stated, Theon’s life is a succession of things that don’t go the way they should, and that’s why she finds herself in her dark green gown, her dark hair falling over her shoulders in neat curls and a Greyjoy cloak that Sansa ended up sewing because she had to worry about the gown, walking towards the godswood with her sister on her side. Her sister who is, by the way, dressed entirely in black leather and wearing breeches.

She has a feeling people will talk about this wedding for the centuries to come.

And then she forgets about the weirdness of the situation when she sees Robb waiting for her in front of the heart tree. He’s all dressed in pale gray, and his hair is the only touch of color in the entire place (along with his siblings’ and his mother’s, but they’re on the side and they’re not what Theon cares about), Jon Snow is behind him holding another cloak and Robb is smiling at her so sweetly that she doesn’t even know if she’s dreaming this. She manages not to trip into her dress for some kind of very lucky chance, and she swallows when she gets in front of the altar and Robb takes her hands.

She can barely hear herself as she swears to be faithful and dutiful and a lot of other things that everyone knows she won’t be (well, faithful is one that she resolves she’ll keep, but the rest is the standard vow and the things proper ladies swear aren’t the things she would), and her heart is beating so hard by the time Robb speaks that she can barely hear him as well. He’s saying stuff about swearing in front of the gods that he’ll be all the things that she said before (except that in his case they’ll all be probably true), and then his hands are on the clasp on her cloak. She gives him a soft nod and it falls to the ground.

Not that she misses it.

And then oh gods Robb grabs the gray cloak from Jon and drapes it around her shoulders, with such care that she thinks she’ll go crazy if he doesn’t just _close_ that damned clasp. And then he finally, _finally_ does it and shit, no one who gets married because of an accidental spoiling should look this happy.

Her heart is still beating so fast that it seems to break out of her ribcage, and that’s when she decides that she doesn’t really care if their audience learns that neither of them is doing this out of duty.

And so she puts her hand on the sides of his face and kisses him soundly, and then his arms are around her back and _what is he lifting her up since when he could do that_ and they’re probably making the septon die of a heart attack since everyone can see that they’re both using their tongue, but Theon can’t care less.

–-

During the next handful of hours, she drinks more than a bride should (technically, but who cares) while her sister proceeds on drinking Greatjon Umber under the table (that was _scary_ ); she dances with Robb first, then with Ned Stark and gods if that isn’t embarrassing, then with Jon (a lot _less_ embarrassing), and when she ends up paired with Dacey Mormont for some reason she doesn’t try to get out of it and neither does Dacey, and then she ends up with Robb again and by then everyone is calling for the bedding.  
  
At least no one points out that there’s no need, since that happened before, but there are no protests. It’s not even _fun_ – the men grabbing her do strip her indeed, but the moment someone tries to make a tasteless joke and says that he hopes Robb Stark still likes the taste of her cunt now, and she replies that _he_ wishes he knew how a woman’s cunt tastes, and they don’t try to do better than that anymore.

Pity, but what can you do.

And then she’s in Robb’s room again, wearing just her smallclothes, and so is Robb, and the moment they look at each other she can’t help breaking into a laughing fit. He follows suit, the two of them falling over the bed without doing anything other than touching, and when it’s over, she has to take a deep breath before speaking.

“So,” she says, “what should we do on this fine wedding night that we have already consumed?”

He snorts, running a hand through her hair again. “If you don’t want to do anything, we don’t have to.”

She shakes her head – one day she’ll teach him not to be so damned honorable all the time.

So she takes another breath and moves so that she’s straddling him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Did I ever say that I was against consuming it again? If I had wanted to abstain I’d have become a septa.”

At that, Robb just laughs in her face, totally unable to keep it in, and she laughs along with him, and she thinks that well, her life hasn’t gone the way it was supposed to, but as things are, she thinks she likes it better this way.

 

End.


End file.
